


Wish

by gleefulmusings



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Canon Gay Character, Canon Het Relationship, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings
Summary: Cordelia's death is the final straw and Xander takes great pains to set right all the wrongs inflicted upon them, inadvertently creating a new universe eerily different, yet all too familiar.





	1. Regenesis

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dusting off this relic and revamping it, adding Kurt Hummel because he's worth it.
> 
> Awesome banner by KateKat1010

 

 

He had been deep in the jungles of the Congo when he knew she was dead.

He didn’t understand the feeling at first. He had lost people before, people he had loved deeply, but it had never felt like this. He had felt like an orphan when Joyce died. He felt as though his sister had been torn from him when Tara was killed. A part of him died with Anya.

This … was so much worse. It was a total lack of feeling. That made him angry. He should be feeling pain and grief and anger, but there was nothing but a void he knew could never be filled. Because this was the final straw. He could no longer stomach this life.

The past year in Africa, he had convinced himself that he was making a difference. He was helping these girls the way the previous Council had never helped Buffy; or Faith, for that matter. He was giving them answers, giving them hope.

For a while, it had worked and he let it be enough. His Slayers were good, easily the best of the Awakened, a dumb term coined by that little nerd Andrew. Even Giles had remarked on it, saying the Slayers coming out of Africa were the most prepared, the most grounded, and even the most talented.

Xander supposed he should have been grateful, but he wasn’t. He worked hard with his girls, training them as best he could with a style he had cobbled together from the Slayers he knew. He made them research and answered their questions honestly. In fact, he insisted they question everything and demand answers to their satisfaction. He cared for them, even loved them, and never hesitated to tell them.

Giles’ approval was nice but unnecessary. It had been withheld for too long and Xander had reached an age and level of maturity that saw him needing no one’s accolades but his own. He had finally learned to believe in himself, to trust himself and his instincts. It was a nice feeling, one he had passed along to his Slayers, who took it with them to the New Council.

He knew neither Buffy nor Giles were pleased that his Slayers refused to recognize their authority, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was done trying to please them. He had been done the moment that bus pressed past the green sign wishing them a pleasant journey. He loved them and always would, but he didn’t need them, and whatever sins he might have committed had been revisited. His dues were paid.

He had gone to Africa because he wanted to get away from them and the memories. He had gone because he was bored and had nothing else to do. For better or worse, this was his life now, and it was all he knew. He couldn’t close his eyes in ignorance and had no desire to do so. He wanted to fight, but on his own terms.

But now she was dead and his fight was gone.

He wasn’t sure when it was he had pinned all his hopes on her. Maybe because he had been the first to see her, truly _see_ her, and she had done the same for him. Once the blinders were ripped away, once the artifice was stripped, she was simply the finest person he had ever known.

Everything about her which had so annoyed him when they were children, he had come to admire and deeply respect. Even her negative qualities, such as they were, were honest and forthright. She told the truth because it needed to be said, needed to be faced, and she did so not out of fear, but with love.

Cordelia had loved fiercely. She might not have liked it, and she certainly never admitted it, but her heart was enormous. That he had broken it, well … that had broken him, in ways he didn’t understand, even now.

Now she was gone, and the broken pieces of his heart with her. There was just emptiness.

And it was _wrong_.

He was stuck dumb by that wrongness. He felt that things had been very wrong for far too long, and he, the one who supposedly saw everything, hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

The obvious question: what to do about it? The answer in itself was wrong, but perhaps it would be worth it.

So many things, so many people, had been lost. Perhaps it was fate, but what if it wasn’t? What if something they had done had set a course never meant to be sailed? The more he considered this, the more right it felt, and the more determined he became to set it to rights.

In retrospect, the one good thing about their last year in Sunnydale was that Spike had talked too much. If you chose to listen, you learned some very interesting things.

 

* * *

 

He had found the cave easily enough. He had listened passively to the demon’s exhortations. He had passed the trial with ease. Offering his own life as a sacrifice was no hardship; he had been doing it for years with far less promise of a reward he actually wanted.

So when he felt the fangs of the conjured vampire prick his neck, he turned his head in submission and locked eyes with the demon, who demanded his intention. Those years with Anya served him well. Keep it simple, leave no loopholes, and the consequences were on you.

He knew how to make a wish.

As the light left his eyes, he offered a grim smile.

“I wish Buffy Summers had never been Called.”

There was a clap of thunder and a surprised chuckle.

“Done.”


	2. What Fresh Hell is This?

He shifted fitfully when a large swath of sunshine beamed across his face. He frowned and groaned, resisting the urge to open his eyes. For the first time since he could remember, he had awoken feeling refreshed and wanted to hang on to that feeling just a bit longer.

Then he realized he was alive and the implications of that.

Had it really worked?

He cracked open a wary eye and chanced a quick look at his surroundings. He frowned again, vaguely recognizing the room, something both familiar and foreign. Where was he? When was he? Why was he even alive? That was somewhat unexpected.

He had gone into that cave knowing exactly what his wish would be and how he would word it. He had considered the many permutations that might result, insofar as he could conceive of them, but he honestly believed his life would be forfeit. He had accepted that, perhaps even excited by it, but, now, here he was.

Well, shit. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He sighed and rolled onto his side. Staying in bed sounded pretty good, but he knew that wasn’t an option. He had created this world, or had instigated its creation, he wasn’t quite sure, and it was time to face the consequences. He knew there would be many.

That he knew this at all was, in fact, a consequence. He had been hoping, though not expecting, that upon arriving here, he would have no memory of the previous world. He had wanted a blank slate, a fresh start. Obviously that hadn’t happened, yet he wasn’t too surprised.

Contrary to what his friends would’ve claimed, he had entered this with eyes wide open. That he remembered every pain, every slight, and every loss was his due. It was only his right to carry that burden, but at least he would be the only one. He hoped.

As agonizing as that thought was, there was every possibility that Cordelia was alive; that Kendra, Jenny, Joyce, Tara, and Cordelia were, as well. They were owed that chance, and he just hoped he had given it to them.

If Buffy wasn’t the Slayer, she had no reason to come to Sunnydale. Maybe her parents were still married and living happily in Los Angeles. She wouldn’t have to die – _twice_ – and endure a life of constant danger and sacrifice. She deserved at least that much. She had fought so hard and for so long, the least she was owed was some happiness.

That begged the question: if Buffy wasn’t the Slayer, who was? Was she already on the Hellmouth? If Buffy hadn’t been Called, was Kendra the next in line? Faith? He hated that he might have done that to them, but he had done it before, hadn’t he? By reviving Buffy, he had inadvertently been responsible for Calling Kendra, and then Faith.

He’d never thought about it in those terms. Ignorance had been bliss.

He then opened his other eye. Yep, two. That would take some adjustment. The return of depth perception was weird.

He noticed the windows were open and he took a deep breath. Smelled like Sunnydale, the brine of the ocean mixed with sunshine and the fetid stench of the Hellmouth. Well, what did he expect? That he would get to live a carefree life unburdened with the knowledge of what lurked in the dark? Fat chance.

He sat up and placed his feet on the floor, deciding he had to take stock. No Buffy potentially meant Jesse was still alive. It might mean that Willow might never fall prey to her power. Sure, she had accomplished a lot, but the price had been high, and not only for her.

What about Dawn? He knew the wish didn’t preclude her creation. Glory was most likely still a threat, which was something he needed to consider. If Dawn showed up, to whom would she be given? He kind of hoped it would be him, just because he knew enough about the situation to do something about it, though he certainly didn’t want Dawn living with his parents.

He sighed. He had a few years to think about it.

His brow furrowed, something niggling at his consciousness.

He slowly looked around the room. It was his room, but it wasn’t.

All the air was sucked from his lungs.

It was Buffy’s.

 

* * *

 

 

He shivered, suddenly cold. He stood and realized he had been sleeping only in his boxers, which he hadn’t done for years. After Buffy had died the second time, he had begun sleeping fully dressed to save precious moments in case of attack.

He shook his head and crossed to the window, closing it. He turned around and caught himself in the mirror. Two eyes, check.

His body was free of scars. What?

The marks on his chest from Willow’s aborted apocalypse were gone, but so was every scar he had ever earned, including those prior to Buffy’s arrival. He shook off those dark thoughts, not yet ready to be confronted with his parents.

He was thin again. In fact, he was in the best shape of his life.

He had started putting on weight after Joyce’s death, which was odd, because he didn’t remember actually eating. Still, it beat falling into a bottle, his parents’ solution to strife. Those long months, he had stared in the mirror as the reflection looking back had turned more and more alien. He had become bloated and doughy, had stopped working out, had stopped thinking altogether.

Anya hadn’t minded. She had said there was just now more of him to love, and she hadn’t meant it ironically, because she didn’t understand irony. No one else had said anything, save Willow, who quipped that he appeared to gain every pound Buffy lost.

There had been truth in that statement. Buffy had become frighteningly thin those last two years. She had always been tiny, but had never before looked fragile. He had suspected some kind of eating disorder, though he never said it aloud. As the token male, he knew better. Eventually she had started eating again, though her appetite was never what it was, and she viewed food only as fuel, finding no pleasure in it.

After Tara was killed, he had started shedding the weight. There was no conscious decision; he had simply stopped eating. Food hadn’t helped with his depression, so he no long indulged. In fact, whenever he tried to eat, he threw up.

That had continued the entire last year in Sunnydale. He had shed the weight quickly, perhaps too quickly, and never gained it back. In fact, he had returned to his high school weight, though his metabolism was no longer driven by nervous energy. He hadn’t felt nervous; he hadn’t felt much of anything. He supposed that, during that year, he had just been waiting to die.

Unfortunately, the loss hadn’t escaped notice. Willow, Anya, and Dawn had become alarmed at how thin he became and tried to force feed him whenever possible. Buffy hadn’t been paying attention and, for once, he was grateful for her benign neglect. Besides, she had real problems she was desperately trying to solve; he hadn’t wanted to divert her energies by becoming her latest mission.

So he had eaten whatever was put in front of him before promptly excusing himself and then throwing it up. He never put his finger down his throat. He had never tried to purge. He just couldn’t keep it down. Every morsel swirling in his stomach had been uncomfortable agony, and the elation he had enjoyed once it was expelled was like nothing he had ever before experienced.

He had been so ashamed of finding such joy in being so dysfunctional.

Then Giles returned with a slew of Potentials at his back and, for once, observed him too carefully. He hadn’t been angry, which Xander would have preferred. Instead, the man had been deeply, deeply sad. He had been horrified by what Xander was doing to himself, unconsciously or not, and he felt tremendous guilt for allowing it to happen.

His guilt only caused Xander to feel more ashamed.

The day Giles had cornered him in the kitchen, talking about _functional bulimia_ , he had instantly reverted to denial. He wasn’t bulimic; that was just ridiculous. He didn’t purge; his body just couldn’t tolerate food.

Giles had asked him point-blank if he wanted to die and Xander said nothing, which said everything. He never wanted to die more than after Giles started crying. Still, he had insisted nothing was wrong, that Giles was making a mountain out of a molehill. Giles had just continued to sob, holding Xander’s face and telling him how much he was loved. That had terrified Xander in a way nothing else ever had. He didn’t want to be loved; he just wanted everything to be over.

The food thing, well, it was out of his control. Just like the ulcer he had developed.

Giles had insisted that it was all about control. Every ounce of control had been stripped from him, so Xander sought to attack the only enemy he could conceivably conquer: himself. Then there had been a lot of psychobabble which Xander ignored, though he couldn’t stop himself from listening.

A week, five more lost pounds, and innumerable threats later, Giles had decided to apply some tough love. He wailed about unhealthy behavior in a house of teenage girls with too many issues. He promised exposure to Dawn, who was already watching Xander like a hawk. He attempted a guilt trip, promising to commit him for treatment, and who would protect the girls then?

It hadn’t worked because Xander knew he had actually done very little to help his friends. He had always been more a hindrance than anything. They would probably be better off without him, and it would serve him right to be eating his hair in the nut barn when his friends and the world met their end.

Giles had then found an unlikely ally in Faith. She prepared his food, watched him eat it, and then held him in place so he couldn’t wander off to the bathroom. She never said a word, hardly even looked at him, but every touch screamed her sadness and sorrow. He realized that, if he died, she would miss himself. For some strange reason, that touched him.

So he ate lots of bland things in the appropriate amounts and his weight had stabilized. Faith never mentioned it to anyone, including him. Sometimes he wondered if she had done it because she cared for him or because it was the right thing to do or because she felt she needed to make penance. He supposed it didn’t matter; she had saved his life, such as it was. He still didn’t know if he was thankful for it.

 

* * *

 

 

He had a different haircut, he noticed. His body was more muscular than it had been at that age.

Speaking of, how old was he? He felt pretty good. All of the aches and pains that appeared when he got out of bed were gone. His skin was tight and clear.

He shook his head to clear it. Right. He needed answers.

He once again panned around the room, eyes falling on a calendar hung above the desk, and his heart sank. Sixteen again, which meant high school. At least he’d probably get better grades this time around. In the original world, Jesse was dead by now.

His thoughts concerning Jesse were very muddled. Not a day passed that he didn’t mourn his best friend, but Jesse had died ten years ago; he had dealt with the grief. Perhaps not in the healthiest of manners, but that pain was old. It prickled at his thoughts now, but it was distant. He hoped Jess was alive, but accepted it might not be a given.

He looked at the clock. He was due at school in two hours, if today was a weekday. He probably should get dressed. He walked over to the closet and opened the doors, staring. These weren’t Xander clothes. These were clothes Cordelia had once thought should _be_ Xander clothes. They weren’t outrageously expensive, but they were certainly of more quality than the Target fare he normally purchased. He couldn’t even remember when he had last worn anything but a black t-shirt and cargo pants.

No Hawaiian shirts, thank god.

He shook his head in bemusement and wandered over to the desk.

Since when was he so organized?

Oh, another consequence.

He suddenly realized he had woken up in the body of a Xander whose existence he had probably voided with the wish. That was bad.

Frightened, he looked back in the mirror.

“ _Hi, me_.”

He blinked owlishly. Huh?

“ _Not completely voided. I’m still here._ ”

“Who the hell are you?”

“ _I’m the apparently younger, better dressed, and more organized you. Want to explain just why the hell I’m no longer in control of my body?_ ”


	3. Inversion

He stepped closer toward the mirror, cocking his head and peering intensely at his reflection, which was definitely not moving its mouth. So what was with the voice?

“ _I’m inside you, dumbass! Man, I guess I really am the smarter one_.”

Xander gaped.

“ _Gee, that’s a great look. Close our mouth before you draw flies or someone shoves a dick in there!_ ”

Okay, he had definitely not been so bawdy when he was younger.

“ _Sucks for you_.”

What was with this oral fixation?

“ _I’m sixteen! It’s on my mind all the time!_ ”

He supposed that made sense. Hell, he was twenty-five and it was always on his mind, too.

“What’s happening to me?”

“ _You mean to us. I had gone to bed, with sugarplums and naked Cordys dancing in my head …_ ”

“She’s alive?” he croaked.

The voice was silent for a moment. “ _Yeah_ ,” it finally replied, voice subdued. “ _Anyway, I woke up in a cave that looked like something out of an Indiana Jones movie. There was some hideous monster, which I’m assuming was a demon, and it asked me to help you. I like to help people, and I thought it was just a dream, so I said sure, but when I looked over at you, I saw an oldme dressed like a pirate_.”

Xander frowned, ignoring the age gibe. “Wait. The demon asked the me of another world to help the me of my world?”

“ _Yep_.”

“Why would you do that?” Xander softly asked.

“ _Wouldn’t you? I know you would, because you’re me. Then I saw a lot of things I wish I could forget, like dead friends_.” The voice sounded so lost and upset. “ _They were my friends, too. I thought at first it was a vision of the future, but the demon told me it was your life. I had to help_.”

“Did it tell you what I wanted? What I was trying to do?”

“ _Yeah, and I thought it was a good idea. I don’t know all the specifics, and I’m really not sure I want to, but the demon said you were trying to save people, people who shouldn’t have died, and I get that_.”

Xander’s breath quickened. “Are you sure it said they shouldn’t have died? This is very important.”

“ _Positive. It also said you were trying to change one specific thing, and doing that would change almost everything, but the events I saw still might happen, just at different times and perhaps to different people. The things I saw … I want to prevent those if I can_.”

His frown deepened. That meant the demon had known what he would ask before he even walked inside. That presented a whole other host of problems. Was the original idea even his? Had some force planted it within his mind? Had it been his choice, or just another whim of fate?

Was he destined to have made this wish? If so, to what end?

“ _But isn’t it better?_ ” the voice whispered. “ _Isn’t it better to have another chance?_ ”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It will only be better if I can make it better. There’s no guarantees with wishes, there never are, and there are always unforeseen consequences.”

“ _Yeah, like me_.”

He nodded. “I haven’t figured that one out yet.”

“ _The demon gave me a choice. I could either surrender my body to you and be reborn in another world, or I could stay to help. I chose to stay. You don’t know anything about this world. You can’t just go stumbling around like an idiot or you could end up causing everything you tried to change_.”

“Why would you do that?” he wondered.

“ _Because I’m you. Helping you means helping me, and you did this to help your friends, who just so happen to be my friends. So, until I reach the age you were when you made the wish, here I am. At that point, we should merge into one person with the same memories_.”

“I stole your life,” Xander whispered, deeply ashamed.

“ _You didn’t steal anything. I gave my life for you and for my friends. I would do it again, and so would you. You know how I know that? Because I’m you! Granted, I didn’t think I’d be turned into some kind of Jiminy Cricket, but I still get to live my life. It’s a pretty good one, so try not to ruin it._ ”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so unselfish.”

“ _Then it’s a good thing I’m still around, because I have a lot to teach you. You should probably get dressed. School is in an hour. I took a shower last night, so you shouldn’t be all funky. Oh, and could you please call me something other than the Voice? I’m not Christina Aguilera_.”

“Any suggestions?”

He then felt a mental shrug.

“ _Alex? That should be okay. I always wondered what it would be like to be an Alex. Willow chose ‘Xander’ in kindergarten and it just stuck_.”

“I had forgotten she’d done that.” He paused. “Wait, how do you even know about that show? It’s not going to be on the air for years.”

“ _Parallel worlds_ , _running at different times. You moved through space, but not through time, so it’s the same year it was when you made the wish. You’re just younger_.”

Xander tried and failed to process that. “Jesus, what else don’t I know?”

“ _You really didn’t put much thought into this, did you?_ ” asked an amused Alex. “ _Maybe there just wasn’t time. Go pick out some clothes and I’ll answer some of your more burning questions. Our friends are smart, and they’ll notice if you act weirder than normal._ ”

He grinned. “So I’m still weird?”

“ _Absolutely, and I take pride in my weirdness, so get ready to embrace the weird_.”

“I can do weird.” He crossed to the closet, opened the door, and fell short. “Um, suggestions?”

Alex sighed. “ _Okay, I checked the weather last night. Today is supposed to be sunny with a high in the low eighties. You want to look good while minimizing the chance of stinking like a boy. Girls don’t like that_.”

“So you like girls?”

“ _Sure. I like boys, too, but mostly girls_.”

He stumbled. “What?”

“ _Yeah, right_ ,” Alex scoffed, as he pressed an image of an acceptable outfit to the forefront of their mind. “ _Why even ask that question if you didn’t already know the answer? Don’t forget I witnessed some key moments of your life, and you were bisexual, too. You just never acted on it. I haven’t either, but if I did, I hope I’d have more taste than to crush on vampires, even if they have souls. Seriously, what the fuck? It looked like you didn’t have very many options, but that’s just gross_.”

“Wow. I mean … wow. _Wow_ ”

“ _Now_ ,” Alex blithely continued, “ _crushing on Riley was perfectly acceptable. He’s an awesome guy and really hot. By the way, did you know he liked you, too?_ ”

“Uh …”

“ _Yep, he did, but that’s neither here nor there. In this world, Riley is off limits. Dating your girlfriend’s older brother is just not cool_. _Even I’m not that weird._ ”

“Older brother?” Xander faintly repeated. “Girlfriend?”

“ _Well, duh. Didn’t you do all this to save her? To have another chance? Well, now you do. Don’t fuck it up_.”

“You mean …”

“ _Cordelia is my – our – girlfriend. We’ve been together since seventh grade. Oh, we’re sophomores now, by the way. She knows you better than anyone, and you have to know she’s smarter than almost everyone, so you need to prepare yourself to put on the show of a lifetime, because if you screw it up, believe me, she’ll know_.”

“You’re telling me _Riley_ is Cordy’s brother?!”

“ _He wasn’t in your world?_ ” Alex asked, honestly perplexed. “ _Like I said, I only saw some things, not everything, and you didn’t have any memories of Cordelia after she left Sunnydale. I saw Riley at UC-SunnyD, so I just assumed he stayed here for school._ ” He paused. “ _Hey, why did she leave anyway? College?_ ”

“Uh …”

“ _What did you do?_ ” Alex hissed.

Xander groaned and began pulling on his jeans. This was going to take a while.

 

* * *

 

He quickly dressed as Alex screamed a litany of abuse, castigating him for cheating on Cordelia; for cheating on her with Willow; for lying about it for so long; and for driving Cordelia from Sunnydale.

“ _How could you do that?_ ” he roared. “ _I saw those memories as soon as you thought about them! You loved Cordelia, you truly loved her, so why would you do something so colossally stupid?_ ”

“I wasn’t a very smart guy,” Xander grunted.

“ _Well, you are in this world, so pull your shit together!_ ”

“Wait, what? I’m smart?”

Alex growled. “ _We’re in the top of our class. I’ve worked my ass off to get there, so don’t go and ruin it. Also? Every single time you’re surprised that you’re good at something is a like a kick in our metaphorical nuts, okay? I only saw snippets of your world, but you were, like, some Big Damn Hero there. Why are you such a dick here?_ ”

“Yikes,” muttered an embarrassed Xander, staring down at the floor.

Alex sighed. “ _I’d apologize, but it would be a lie. One of the most important things Cordelia has taught me is that you should always tell the truth. Don’t apologize for it. Own your truth, or you’ll be owned by lies_.”

He quirked up his lips. “Sounds like her.”

“ _You wanted a fresh start, right? Well, here it is. In this world, you’re smart. You got the girl. You’ve got some great friends. Please don’t blow all that because you don’t think you’re worthy of them. If you weren’t worthy, your wish wouldn’t have been granted_.”

“That actually makes sense.”

Another sigh. “ _Why do I get the feeling this will only get worse? Okay, walk over to the desk and grab the bookbag. Open it and look inside_.”

Xander threw up his hands and followed orders, because it was pretty obvious to him he had no clue how to be this Xander Harris.

“ _Xander Who, now?_ ”

He flinched and stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean?”

“ _Who the hell is Xander Harris?_ ”

“I am! We are!”

“ _Sorry, dude, but nah. The only Harris I know is the creepy old guy in Hawaiian shirts who sells used cars and hits on teenage girls_.”

“Uncle Rory?” Xander whispered.

“ _Gross. That Chester was your uncle? Not here, thank god. You must have been a bigger deal than I thought, because you got a serious upgrade_.”

He shook his head to clear it and snatched the bag from the back of the chair. He stomped over to the bed and dumped the contents on top of it.

“ _Don’t forget to make your bed_ ,” Alex snapped. “ _There’s no maid service in this house_.”

Xander rolled his eyes and looked down. “Huh?”

Physics. Advanced Calculus. _Shakespeare?_

“These are Willow classes,” he said flatly, “not Xander classes.”

“ _Wrong!_ ” Alex barked. “ _You’re really starting to piss me off! I don’t know what all happened to you in that hell world whence you came, but this is not that world. Listen up, dipshit! You have an IQ of one-hundred and thirty nine and a four-point-oh GPA, asshole. You just missed the cutoff for MENSA. Last year, you tutored Willow in Biology because she kept messing up the Krebs cycle!_ ”

He pulled a face. “I have a healthy dose of skepticism toward the idea that Willow Rosenberg somehow failed to grasp the particulars of the mechanism by which all aerobic organisms generate energy in the form of ATP.”

He blinked. “Holy shit!”

“ _Ding, ding, ding! Guess who’s not a dink! You! Good job!_ ”

“How the heck did I even know that?”

“ _Because I know it, you tool! That’s part of the reason I elected to hang around. You can’t do this without me, and I’m not going to allow your insistence that you’re some dullard ruin everything for which I’ve worked so hard!_ ”

“You know, your grammar gets better as you get angrier. You really are weird.”

“ _And so are you. So instead of minimizing your potential, try maximizing it instead. Be weird for the right reasons_.”

Suddenly there was silence.

“ _Wait, were you ever tested?_ ”

“I didn’t sleep around!”

“ _Nasty. Not for diseases, dweeb! For learning disabilities! I’m dyslexic. We found out when I was four. I was transposing numbers and writing certain letters backwards. I had therapy for a while, which helped, and then I had to wear these glasses with specially tinted lenses for years. They really worked! I’m mostly okay now, but I usually have Mom proof my work before I turn it in_.”

Xander sat on the bed and stared into space.

Could it really be so simple? Could that explain a dozen years of mediocre grades? Was that he had stopped caring, stopped trying, all those years ago? Even when he thought he knew the answers, he wrote them incorrectly. Maybe … maybe he wasn’t stupid?

“ _Who told you that?_ ” Alex demanded. “ _No one should ever tell a kid that. That’s awful!_ ”

Unbidden and against his will, memories of his parents assailed him. He couldn’t stop them, couldn’t control them, and no matter how deeply he tried to suppress them, he knew Alex was seeing them too. He was mortified.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only seconds, he felt Alex hesitantly step forward. Or come closer. Or however the hell it worked.

“ _What they said to you_ ,” he whispered, “ _what they did, that’s on them. None of that was your fault, Xander. None of it. They were vile, disgusting alleged human beings who had no more business raising a child than Jeffrey Dahmer. I am so, so sorry you were saddled with them_.”

He didn’t know what to say or how to feel. They had been his parents, though they had never loved him. He wasn’t sure if he had loved them, but he tried. He had honestly tried.

“ _They didn’t deserve you, and you certainly didn’t deserve what they did to you. I don’t even know how you survived it. But you did. You survived despite them, and that’s what makes all the difference. They tried to keep you down, but you didn’t let them. You saved the world, Xander. A lot. Everything good about you is because of you, because you understand the difference between right and wrong, between good and evil_.”

“I made so many mistakes,” he sobbed. “Ones that hurt other people.”

“ _But most of them hurt you_ ,” Alex said.

Xander then experienced the most peculiar sensation. He felt as though someone was hugging him.

“ _I’m trying. You need to be hugged, Xander. You deserve to be loved. I know that, and it’s time you know it too. The things that happened to you were terrible, but they made you strong. You didn’t allow them to make you dark, to close yourself off from love. Most people couldn’t have done that, but you did. So I’m going to hug you when I think you need a hug. And when you need to feel a hug, you go to Mom and let her hug you. You go to Faith and let her hug you_.”

He felt all of the blood in his body pool into his feet before turning to ice. Nausea came in waves. He broke out into a light sweat.

“What?” he breathed.

“ _Let Mom and Faith hug you_ ,” Alex said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All he felt, however, was confusion and … was that fear? “ _This must be another difference, though I’m not sure how. I saw Faith in your memories, so I know that you know her. Why are you scared? Are you scared of her_?”

“This isn’t a difference; this is a consequence. Who is Faith to you?”

Xander’s discomfort was in turn making Alex uncomfortable. “ _You’re starting to freak me out_.”

His mind was whirling a million miles a minute. “You said you’re not Xander Harris, so who are you? What is your full name?”

“ _Xander, you’re scaring me_.”

“Please tell me. _Please_. Just … just give me a quick biography, okay?”

“ _Our name is Alexander James. We were born in Sunnydale on October sixteenth_.”

Well, James was certainly better than Lavelle.

“ _Great Caesar’s ghost! Who the hell picked that out?_ ”

Xander ignored the comment. “And you recognized the thing in the cave was a demon. So you know this is the Hellmouth, right? You know about demons and vampires and whatnot.”

“ _Yes_.”

“Is the Slayer here on the Hellmouth?”

There was a beat of silence. “ _Yes_.”

“Why did you hesitate?”

“ _I’m scared to tell you. I’m … I’m frightened_.”

“Please don’t be frightened,” Xander rushed to say. “I’m not angry with you, but I need to understand what’s going on. I need to be prepared when I walk out that door, because you were right. I’m going to mess up everything unless I know what to expect.”

“ _If I tell you, you won’t go away, will you?_ ”

“Do you want me to stay?” asked a surprised Xander.

“ _You’re me_ ,” Alex said quietly. “ _The memories I saw, they were really bad. If even some of that stuff happens here, I don’t think I could deal with it if you weren’t here to help. I don’t want to lose my friends and family, Xander. I love them_.”

He was struck by the realization that Alex was still just a _kid_. Of course he was scared. “Then tell me what I need to know to protect them.”

“ _You swear?_ ”

“I promise. I’m not going anywhere, Alex. Even if I wanted to, and I don’t, it’s not an option. If there’s one purpose I have in this life, it’s to protect my people at all costs. I don’t always get it right, but I always try.”

Alex hesitated a moment longer. “ _Okay_ ,” he finally whispered. “ _Maybe it would be easier if you just asked questions. I think if I shared any memories, you would overload_.”

That was fair. “What is our full name? That includes our surname, Alex.”

“ _Alexander James Giles_.”

“What?” Xander whispered, heart seizing in his chest. “What did you say?”

“ _I saw him in your memories. He seemed like your dad. It wasn’t until I saw those people that I realized he wasn’t_.”

He began weeping. “He was. He was the dad I always wanted.”

“ _And here, he’s the dad you got. That we got_.”

Xander closed his eyes and fell back onto the bed, curling into a ball. “Our mother?”

“ _Jennifer Calendar_.”

His stomach clenched as bile splashed against the back of his throat. “Oh, she’s alive. Jenny is alive!”

Alex was silent, but Xander felt his terror.

“And Faith? What is she to us?”

“ _She’s the Slayer_ ,” a sedate Alex said, “ _but she’s so much more. She’s our twin sister_.”

He threw up as memories of the motel room began to coalesce in his mind.

“No!”

He quickly stomped them down, shoving them into a door in his mind, before locking it and throwing away the key.

“ _What just happened?_ ” Alex asked.

“Memories. Bad ones. I don’t want to see them now.”

“ _Bad memories of Faith?_ ” asked a confused Alex. “ _But she was the Slayer in your world. I saw that. And she was good at it_.”

“Yes, she was.” In that last year, Faith had been integral to their survival and success. “Please don’t ask me, Alex. There really are some things you’re not ready to know. We know and love the same people, but different versions of them. I don’t want my memories to change yours.”

Alex was no dummy. He understood the implication and therefore agreed. He didn’t want to know anything about Faith that would alter his view of her.

“ _May I tell you about my Faith?_ ” he whispered.

“Yes.”

Xander was soon swept away in memories, utterly beautiful memories of a boy and girl who had shared a womb and sometimes still shared a brain. They shared parents and friends and hobbies, and other things too innumerable to count, but, at the end of the day, they had each other. They were all they had ever needed. A boy and girl who stuck by each other through everything, who made friends with the other’s friends and punished the other’s enemies. Two bodies, one heart.

“ _That’s a more apt analogy then you realize, because Faith isn’t the only Slayer_.”

His pulse raced. Kendra? Maybe. Vi? Rona? No, they would be just kids now, and the wish precluded … her.

“ _You_ ,” Alex murmured. “ _Faith is the one girl in a generation to be Called, but you’re the first and only boy._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I took it there. My AU, my rules. *neener*


End file.
